Fragile
by xx-risque
Summary: Samuel Evans is not exactly your typical high school new kid.  He has his secrets -far too many of them, at that- but what will it take to get him to open up and be himself?  T for violence, BDD, depression, self harm.
1. Chapter 1

_They can't hurt you unless you let them._

Mr. Schue glances warily around the choir room as he walks through the door. He does a relatively quick headcount, frowning harshly when he discovers someone's missing.

"Where's Sam?" He asks, looking between the other members of the club. No one seems to know.

"Guys, this is serious. It's the week before Regionals. Can someone call him?"

At this, Mercedes pulls her phone from her bag and quickly dials Sam's cell phone from her contacts. She sits for a few moments, phone pressed to her ear, until the phone rings out and no one answers. She pulls the phone away and shrugs, shaking her head.

"That's odd." Mr Schue comments, sitting down by the piano. "I'm sure he'll arrive soon."

Sam does, in fact, arrive soon, but it's not in a fashion that any of them really expected from him. He comes running through the door and struggles to slam it shut before turning and staring at them, taking a few heavy breaths before collapsing in a fit of tears.

Kurt and Mercedes exchange a nervous glance before the two of them stand and move over to the slumped blonde boy.

"Sam?" Kurt asks, sitting down opposite him and crossing his legs. "Sam, it's okay."

The blonde looks up through his bangs and sniffles loudly, whimpering a little as he does so. Kurt leans over and brushes his thick bangs out of his eyes. Kurt pauses for a second to take in Sam's face; his nose is so obviously broken (Kurt practically kicks himself for not noticing) and his bottom lip is split and bleeding. He's still crying, impossibly harder than before.

"It's okay." Kurt says pulling Sam in to a tight hug. "I just need to get you to a hospital."

The two of them look up to see Mercedes negotiating furiously with Mr Schue, who is apparently reluctant to let them leave, and Kurt grabs Sam by the hand and pulls him from the room.

"Come on." He urges, almost dragging Sam down the hall towards his car. He doesn't notice that the other boy is walking awkwardly, avoiding putting weight on his right leg.

He makes sure that Sam is settled gently in to the passenger seat of his precious Navigator before quickly moving to the driver's side and climbing in, in the most dignified way he can when in a rush.

"What hurts?" He asks Sam carefully, turning in his seat to survey the blonde. Sam swallows harshly, and it hurts, he notes, before he finally manages to speak.

"Everything." He chokes out, and his voice is dry and gravelly, somewhat nasally due to the fact that his nose is pretty much shattered.

"What happened?" Kurt asks as he turns back to face the front of the car, pulling his seatbelt across his chest and starting the car.

"The hockey team apparently don't take kindly to football players in Glee who are apparently 'faggots'." He explains, gesturing as carefully as he can to avoid hurting himself. "I would've tried to fight them off, but there was only me and so many of them and it was useless and..."

He trails off and he feels the tears start again.

"I couldn't even defend myself." He says slowly, staring ahead and out of the glass windshield, as if admitting the most embarrassing thing ever known to human kind.

"Sam, it's okay." Kurt says reassuringly, moving one hand to rest on Sam's knee. He doesn't push him away, so Kurt counts it as a success.

"How is it 'okay'?" Sam chokes out, tears catching themselves in his throat again. It's embarrassing. "I just got my ass handed to me by a bunch of dicks on the hockey team. I'm supposed to be the quarterback, for fuck's sake."

Kurt squeezes Sam's knee gently, although a little harder than before, and Sam winces softly from behind his bangs.

Kurt parks his car in the hospital parking lot, checking it's locked at least four times –God forbid someone steal his beautiful baby. He steers Sam carefully in to the reception of the hospital, squeezes his elbow softly in what Sam perceives to be a gesture of support.

"You're going to have to tell them what happened, Sam. I can't." Kurt explains gently, speaking in to Sam's ear so that only he can hear the words.

"I can't." Sam stutters, his eyes wide and fearful as he stares, terrified, at the brunette boy standing beside him.

"Sam," Kurt says, a little more stern than before, "you're going to have to explain. I don't know what's wrong with you, I can't tell them where you hurt or where you don't. Sam, you're going to have to do this, even just to help yourself."

Sam swallows nervously, and Kurt ushers him towards the friendly looking woman at the desk.

"I need to see a doctor." He says quietly, and she leans forward a little just to make sure she can hear him.

"What seems to be wrong?"

"I just got beaten up at school." He swallows harshly, as if admitting it makes it even worse. "I don't really know what they did but I'm pretty sure I've broken some things."

She nods, types something hurriedly in to the computer that's sitting in front of her.

"And can I take your name?"

"Samuel Evans." The blonde says, almost reluctantly, eyes fixed on the –apparently fascinating- pattern in the floor tiles.

"Okay, thank you. Someone will call for you in a few minutes, Sam." She explains, looking at him with a soft smile. "Feel free to take a seat while you wait."

Sam nods numbly, his throat constricting and tightening as he fails to force out any speech. Kurt takes hold of his hand absently and pulls him towards two free seats in the far corner of the waiting room. He rests Sam's hand on top of his knee and occupies himself by playing with his fingers. Sam watches him, half amused and half confused as to what he's doing.

The doctor calls for Sam, and he gives Kurt a terrified 'deer in the headlights' kind of look, and Kurt urges him over.

"I'll be right here when you get back. I promise." Kurt assures him, hugging him softly and pushing him towards the doctor's office.

Sam returns around forty five minutes later. He has a tape bandage stuck over his nose to hold it steady while it heals, his split lip has been treated and cleaned, and he has a too tight support bandage wrapped around his right ankle.

Kurt looks up from his wrist and spots him, moves over from his seat at the opposite side of the room quickly.

"I want you to have this." Kurt says, holding out a hand braided rainbow friendship bracelet (that he'd just spent the past three quarters of an hour braiding obsessively). "So that whenever you're down or sad or anything, you can look at it and remember that it gets better."

Sam stares at him for a moment, confused.

"I'm not gay." He says, even though he's not even so sure of himself any more.

"I know." Kurt says with a small nod. "I never said you were. I'll just say that I've seen the way that you look at Finn sometimes, and I'm not sure it's totally heterosexual either."

Sam stares at the floor and blushes softly across the tops of his bruised cheeks.

"I won't tell anyone." Kurt says quietly, pulling Sam's wrist closer to him and tying the carefully braided strings around his wrist gently. "I just want you to remember that it's never as bad as it seems."

"You should take your own advice more often, you know." Sam says softly as the leave the hospital and move towards Kurt's perfectly parked car.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks, sitting down in the driver's seat as Sam settles himself in to the passenger seat awkwardly.

"I mean that you're telling me that it gets better, but you don't seem to believe it yourself." Sam explains softly, averting his eyes away from the petite brunette. Kurt laughs gently, the soft sound echoing somewhat through the car.

"Just because it appears I lose faith sometimes doesn't mean I don't believe it, Sam." Kurt says simply, glancing at the blonde boy in the seat beside him. "I practically wake up saying it and fall asleep saying it every day. Just because it isn't visible doesn't mean that I don't believe."

He flashes Sam a small, reassuring smile, waits a few moments until the blonde finally returns it. It's smaller than his usual dopey smile, but it's good enough, and it makes Kurt feel slightly better about this whole situation.

"Do you want to go back to class?" Kurt asks as he starts the car and drives cautiously out of the hospital parking lot. Sam hesitates for a moment, swallows nervously and looks at the brunette, as if searching for some kind of support.

"Do you?" Sam asks, his voice still shaking and still nasally, the strips holding his nose in place forcing his voice to sound worse than it did before he got it treated.

"Not really." Kurt replies with a delicate laugh. "I was kind of hoping you didn't either."

"Well, we won't go back then." Sam says with a small shrug. Kurt smiles at him, looking at him from the corner of his eye as he pulls the car on to the main road.

"Where are we going, then?" Sam presses, his voice confused and his eyebrows knitting together.

"I don't know." Kurt replies. "We'll just drive until we get there, though."

They find themselves in some park a few miles away from the hospital, and Kurt parks up the Navigator and pulls Sam by the hand in to a clearing a few feet away from the road.

"This kind of place doesn't seem very you, Kurt." Sam says as he turns around a few times, as if taking in the luscious surroundings.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks in a sing song voice, sitting down on the grass at his feet, careful to avoid any and all remotely muddy looking spots that happen to be nearby.

"You don't really seem like a dirty forest kind of kid." Sam counters, dropping down on to the grass beside Kurt. "And all the expensive clothes you wear probably don't like mud too much."

"I can't imagine they do like mud that much, Samuel." Kurt laughs with a bemused smile. "But I like it here. It's a good place to think."

"Huh." Sam says, looking up at the trees, as if asking some kind of question to them.

"Sam?" Kurt asks suddenly, tearing his eyes away from the greenery to survey the younger boy for a second. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." Sam says, sitting back and stretching his legs out, resting his weight on his arms as he squints up at the sky.

"_Are _you gay?" Kurt asks, looking away from the blonde and at the trees to his right. "I know you said you're not, but I want you to know you can be honest with me."

"I..." Sam hesitates for a moment, takes the weight off his arms and falls backwards and shuffles until he's comfortably lying on his back in the clearing. "...I don't really know. I guess so. Kind of."

"That's okay." Kurt says in what he hopes is a reassuring way. "It's fine to be unsure. I was for years."

Sam looks over at the older boy with an expression that Kurt manages to interpret as disbelief. It is apparently hard to imagine Kurt as being anything other than flamboyantly proud of his sexuality.

"So, just so you know, if you ever need to talk, or just an understanding shoulder to sulk or cry on, you know where I am and where to find me, don't you?"

Sam swallows nervously, crosses his legs, careful to avoid hurting his sprained ankle. He plays with the bracelet around his wrist anxiously. He nods.

"Thanks, Kurt."


	2. Chapter 2

_In order to have friendship you must look past the colour to the soul, because within the soul lies a rainbow of many colours._

The two of them decide it's probably best to go in to class the next day, but Sam doesn't expect Kurt to drive to his house, abuse the car horn he was provided with, and drive him in to school.

"You're okay!" Mercedes yells when she spots her boy pulling Sam along behind him. She runs (or close enough) towards them and pulls them both into a tight hug.

"Careful," Sam warns with a slight laugh, "nose."

"Oh, right." Mercedes replies with a soft giggle. "Sorry."

"Yeah, they're trying to get it just to heal right, and if it goes wrong I have to have surgery." Sam says, his face clearly displaying the fact that this is something he does not wish to happen.

"It's broken?" Mercedes asks, as if she's somehow forgotten how it looked yesterday.

"Clearly." Kurt replies for the blonde, who just stands and gapes at her. "I'm sure he didn't just wake up and decide that facial plasters were an amazing accessory."

Sam frowns at the older boy for a second before Quinn appears beside him and pulls him off in the other direction. Kurt and Mercedes watch absently as they talk quickly and animatedly, their voices quiet. Kurt noticeably strains to hear them until Mercedes hits him across the arm.

"Careful! This is from the new Marc Jacobs spring collection!" Kurt snaps, staring at the girl like she'd just shot someone in the middle of the hall.

"Sorry." She laughs. "You were staring."

"I was?" Kurt asks, almost surprised at himself even though he's recently made somewhat of a habit of staring at one Samuel Evans.

"You like him, don't you?" Mercedes muses, raising her eyebrows at her best friend. The boy turns away from the blonde and regards his best friend with a sceptical look.

"How on Earth could you tell, 'Cedes?" He deadpans, staring at the girl in disbelief. She shrugs at him, biting back a small giggle.

"I'm just saying, Kurt." She says with a smirk. "You might want to not stare as much. I don't even know which team he plays for."

She shrugs again. Kurt stares at her like she's grown a second head.

"Did you _really _just use that metaphor, 'Cedes?" He asks with a reluctant laugh. "I'm ashamed to say that I expected better."

"You love me, white boy." Mercedes continues with a laugh, rolling her eyes at her best friend as she turns and begins to rummage in her locker for her books.

"I suppose someone has to." Kurt snipes back, winking at the girl when she glares at him from around the doors of their lockers. She pouts at him a little, but ultimately just laughs at him as she pulls out her Spanish textbooks.

Kurt spots Sam and Quinn disappear down the hallway and he watches them with an almost longing expression until Mercedes catches him and flicks him in the head to stop him.

In glee later that day, Mr Schue decides to scorn and yell at both Kurt and Sam for skipping yesterday's meet to go to the hospital.

"Mr Schue, be reasonable." Kurt retorts. Sam shrinks back in his chair. "He has a broken nose. You were sympathetic when Rachel broke hers."

"That was a completely different matter!" The mentioned girl pipes up, but Kurt just waves his hand at her to silence her.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, but you shouldn't have left glee club when I told you not to. You should've waited for the school nurse to get here."

"He was _bleeding!_" Mercedes yells incredulously from the back of the room. Sam shrinks further back into his seat and Quinn watches him absently, resting a hand on his knee as some kind of comfort. It doesn't work as well as he knows Kurt's do.

The two members of the club argue furiously with Mr Schue until Sam finally can't take it anymore and leaves. No one but Quinn notices, and she considers following him for a moment until she remembers what they've been discussing at every opportunity all day.

For the first time in his entire career at McKinley High, Kurt storms out of a classroom.

"Are my departures ever that perfectly timed?" Rachel asks Finn quietly in the silence that follows the departure of the flamboyant teen. Finn shrugs.

"Sometimes. I guess. I don't really pay much attention."

Rachel glares at him and sighs, sitting back in her chair, leaning away from him and folding her arms. She huffs. Finn just looks confused.

"Sam!" Kurt yells as he follows the blonde down the hall. Sam can't, because of his stupid ankle, and Kurt won't, because of his precious, expensive Marc Jacobs. "Wait up!"

The blonde finally stops, hesitating for a moment before turning to face the brunette.

"What?" He asks, perhaps too harshly and perhaps a lot angrier than he first planned on. Kurt shrinks away from him a little, but swallows and regains his composure.

"I was just wondering if you were okay." Kurt asks quietly. "And I'm sorry for not coming after you right away."

"I wouldn't have got very far." Sam scoffs, pausing for a moment to glare at his ankle as if it will fix something. "Not with this stupid thing anyway."

Kurt smiles at him for a moment, rests his hand on his shoulder softly. He picks up his wrist and tugs at the bracelet that's still tied tight around his wrist.

"It gets better." He says again, quietly this time. "I didn't just mean for things like _that._ I meant generally. If you just have a little hope, things will always get better."

He smiles, looks up at Sam's face to see that signature dopey grin starting to spread across his features again (okay, so he totally has a thing for slightly dim-witted jocks, what of it?) and he feels a soft blush start to spread across his porcelain cheeks.

"Thanks, Kurt." The blonde replies with a small smile, but it's still not as big as it was on the day they first met.

Kurt watches the blonde with an almost amused expression, his glasz eyes narrowing somewhat as he surveys the slowly slumping forward form of the younger boy.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Kurt asks, resting a hand softly on the younger boy's back, reaching up slightly to the taller teen.

Sam stares at him, hard and almost as if he can see through every lie and face and disguise Kurt has ever used or worn or hidden behind. Kurt swallows anxiously as the blonde's green eyes trace up and down his skinny frame for a few seconds.

"I don't understand you, Kurt." Sam says finally, hesitating for a moment as he sets a foot forward carefully and begins to move down the corridor.

"Why?" Kurt asks softly, following behind the other boy until he catches up and can walk beside him once more. "What's not to understand?"

"I don't know." Sam says with a gentle, almost delicate shrug. It's kind of out of character for him. "You're just telling me to believe and tell myself that everything will get better even though you can't tell it to yourself, and I don't get how you expect me to believe when you never show me that you can."

Kurt stares at the tanned blonde for a few seconds before nodding, as if telling him to continue in a simple gesture.

"You kind of remind me what I can do if I stay strong sometimes, Kurt." Sam continues, worrying his lower lip for a second as he panics internally over whether he's said too much. "I don't mean to creep you out or anything, but it kind of helps to see someone you know kind of know who kind of went through what you're going through. It kind of helps to know that it does kind of get a little better after a few months or years or whatever."

Kurt frowns a little at the blonde for a second, looking up at him to make up for the few inches different in their height. He takes in the confused, somewhat saddened expression on the younger teen's face. Sam looks at him for a second, and their eyes meet awkwardly for almost half a minute until Sam flinches and looks away, apparently embarrassed.

"Sam." Kurt says, somewhat softer than he usually would in this kind of situation. "Samuel. Look at me. Please."

The blonde sighs to himself and drags his eyes up from the dirty linoleum on the school floor so that he can fix his eyes on to Kurt's face.

"Yes?"

"Please don't be embarrassed. It's kind of nice for someone to tell me that they admire me rather than want to throw me in to a dumpster without a second thought for my wardrobe." The boy huffs gently, and the blonde boy laughs softly at him, at a volume he barely hears himself. He's kind of glad this kid burst in on him in the school gym bathrooms when he did, otherwise he'd pretty much be a friendless loser in a new school in a new state.

Kurt smiles at him, his expression merely confused as the younger boy smiles gently at him, his lips resting lopsided as he finally smiles properly.

"I like your smile." Kurt comments offhandedly, only realizing the potential implications of his words until the last syllable had escaped. He feels the soft heat of blush scatter across the tops of his cheekbones. Sam feels himself start to blush a lot more furiously and a lot darker than he'd ever care to admit that he could, his eyes downcast as his coal eyelashes scatter across his cheeks. Kurt watches him, and his heart stumbles a little in his chest. That's probably not a good thing, he realizes. In both the emotional and health side of things.

"Lor menari." Sam says quietly, and Kurt doesn't hear him. Even if he does, he says nothing and just takes hold of the younger jock's wrist and pulls him in the opposite direction to the choir room.

"Aren't we going back?" Sam asks, almost confused. Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately, purely and simply because the way he's always so confused and perplexed by simple things is really kind of cute.

"Nope." Kurt replies, popping the 'p' sound, still sounding eloquent and dignified in a way that Sam reminds himself to question him over at a later date. "They don't deserve our fabulous company -or our fabulous voices."

Sam smiles and laughs even softer than before, and Kurt decides that it's nice to see and hear the other boy laugh so much despite the situation. Kurt kind of likes when things like this happen.

He pulls them towards the bleachers (which have been almost permanently deserted since the football team started losing miserably again) and they settle themselves on the empty front row of seats by the team benches.

Sam sighs a little and surveys the field in front of him. He gave up football a few days ago -apparently the other players aren't too in to the idea of a gay or even bisexual team mate sharing a shower room with them.

"Why are we here, Kurt?" Sam asks quietly, not looking away from the dying, yellowed grass of the field. "I thought you hated football."

"I do." Kurt replies equally quietly, his eyes following the direction in which Sam is staring. "I just thought you'd like to be somewhere familiar for once."

"Can I tell you something, Kurt?" Sam asks softly, looking away from the field and squinting against the sun to take in the older boy's defined features.

"Yes, if you trust me with it." Kurt replies, turning to meet the younger boy's nervous stare. Sam swallows for a moment, kicks at the grass absently before looking back up again.

"I actually hate football. I only played it because my uncle told me it would 'fix my gay.'"


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow. It has been a looooong time. Just for future reference, this fic is kind of on the backburner right now while I finish my NaNoWriMo from last year. I have about 24K of this written up already, though, so I should be good for updates until I get it finished. Thanks for all the alerts/favourites. X**

* * *

><p><em>How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love?<em>

Kurt stares at the younger boy for a long moment, horrified and almost reeling from the words the other boy had just shared with him. Sam sniffs gently and Kurt notices the way he tugs down the sleeves of his letterman jacket and tugs on the cuffs absently with his fingers. He watches as the blonde absently tugs the braided strands of rainbow out from under it and rubs his fingers over it, as if deep in thought.

"It's okay, Sam." Kurt says in the silence. He's not used to reassuring people when they're beating themselves up like this; not used to people holding him so high in their eyes that his opinion and words and support actually mean something to them. "I've told you, haven't I? If you ever need me -seriously, ever, I don't care when, why or how- you know where I am and you can just call me."

He hesitates for a moment, swallows to bite back the comment he was slowly working up the nerve to say before his brain overpowers him and he just blurts it out right in the blonde's face.

"You're one of my best friends, Sam. I'm almost positive I'd do anything for you."

Kurt questions whether he's being thoroughly appropriate with his best friend until the other boy smiles gently and nods, a smile gradually dragging up the corners of his naturally pouted lips.

"Thanks, Kurt. You have no idea how much I've just needed a friend lately." He says sadly, his eyes fixed on his tattered shoes. Kurt watches him for a moment, his eyes searching for any sign of embarrassment or anything that he could possibly try and fix.

"Do you know something, Kurt?" Sam says after a long, comfortable silence. Kurt glances over to him to see that he's stopped staring at his shoes and is now looking straight at him.

"What?" Kurt asks, confused in a way that only Sam ever manages to make him feel.

"Before I met you, I never really questioned anything." He explains simply, looking away from him again. The bell for fifth period rings back in the main school building and he stands.

"I have Chemistry. I should be going. I'll see you in glee tomorrow." Sam says awkwardly, suddenly regretting his stupid tendency to say stupid things without thinking. Kurt watches him leave as he tucks his hands harshly in to his pockets and ducks his head.

Kurt cocks his head to consider the younger boy's form as he follows him from ten feet behind. He is pretty convinced that Samuel Evans is one of the strangest people he's ever met.

Kurt settles himself in his seat in English class beside Mercedes, and the girl immediately elbows him and just whispers, "I won." and Kurt can only imagine she means the argument she was having with Mr Schue. He really loves his best girl friend sometimes.

"How's Sam?" She whispers softly.

"Not great." Kurt replies just as quietly, his eyes fixed on the board at the front of the classroom. Mercedes watches him out of the corner of her eye as she takes a few notes.

"How?" She asks, frowning at her notes a little before looking up at her best friend. "Why?"

"He's still beating himself up over the whole thing." Kurt explains gently, carefully noting down something about Shakespeare's use of tension. "He's still blaming himself for everything."

"Stupid white boy." Mercedes mumbles, rolling her eyes in a way she hopes is affectionately.

A folded lined paper note lands on their desk in front of Kurt, and he turns to see Quinn sitting at the desk to his right, looking a little sheepish. He unfolds the note and reads it carefully a few times before finding a way to reply.

_'Is Sam okay?'_ it asks, and Kurt throws the paper back at Quinn to catch her attention. She stares at him for a moment, her expression somewhat harsh, but when Kurt nods, she relaxes and settles back in to her chair.

The English lesson couldn't last any longer if it tried, Kurt decides, as their teacher talks on and on and on about theatrical devices and plot and other things that Kurt has known about since he was eleven.

When they finally escape, he notices Sam standing at his locker across the hall, his eyes narrowed and somewhat panicky.

"Sam?" Kurt asks, taking a few steps over to him. The blonde jumps a little from the shock, but he turns and flashes the older boy a small smile.

"Hey, Kurt." He says quietly, and somehow still awkwardly despite everything.

"What did you mean earlier?" Kurt asks, voice a little sterner that he'd realized he could be, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Sam swallows; whether it's from nerves or fear or something else entirely, Kurt doesn't know.

"I..." Sam starts, trailing off and blushing, his eyes fixed on the floor. Kurt frowns a little.

"Because, seriously, Sam, I want to know."

Sam looks up a little, his eyes wet with tears (Kurt's seen that look enough times before now) and he swallows harshly, and Kurt knows it's from fear.

"I... Kind of..." Sam stumbles over his words, his throat dry and tight, and he stares at the floor again whilst he tries to think out his words. Kurt's frown softens, but by a barely noticeable amount.

"I'm sorry." Sam says suddenly, his voice hushed and shaky. "I shouldn't... I should leave."

He wipes furiously at his eyes, slams his locker closed and disappears off down the corridor, leaving Kurt standing confused in the middle of the English hall.

He spots Quinn embracing the other blonde during lunch break in the cafeteria, where he sits alone until Mercedes shows up with Tina, Mike, Finn and Rachel.

"What's wrong with Sam and Quinn?" Finn asks dumbly, staring at the other two teens in such an obvious way even Rachel is ashamed of him.

"I don't know." Kurt replies with a shrug, picking at the salad in front of him. Because, honestly, he has no idea what's wrong with Sam, what he was trying to tell him, or why on earth Quinn is involved in this situation.

"Isn't it obvious?" Santana asks loudly from across the table, where she sits beside Brittany and Artie. "They wanna get their mack on!"

Kurt stares at her incredulously (then remembers that, as far as anyone else is concerned, Sam is straight) until he notices that Sam and Quinn are staring at all of them from the other side of the room.

"Nice going." Rachel comments at an equally loud volume, narrowing her eyes at Santana. Santana just rolls her eyes at her and goes back to her lunch. Kurt silently wonders what he did to deserve such stupid friends -who also happen to be vastly challenged in the art of subtlety.

When Quinn and Sam move over to their table and take the two empty seats at the far end of the table, between Puck and Mercedes, the entire table falls silent. Kurt mentally slaps everyone in the face.

He elbows Mercedes to try and get her to continue the conversation they were having about the quality of department store clothing, but Rachel decides to butt in and just make the whole situation even worse somehow.

"Sam, Quinn. Nice of you to join us." Her smile is clearly faked, and Kurt is pretty sure even Finn realized that much.

Quinn and Sam exchange a worried, albeit confused, glance, their eyes apparently searching the others for some kind of an answer.

"Kiss her already, Trouty Mouth!" Puck instructs, a lot louder than he had planned on doing. Sam stares at him, perhaps horrified for a second before he shakes his head and stands to leave. Quinn grabs him by the wrist to stop him, but he just shakes his head at the girl before tugging away from her and tucking his hands in to his pockets. He's out of the cafeteria within the minute.

"I don't understand that boy." Kurt comments quietly to Mercedes, who nods in agreement. Quinn just sits at the end of the table, looking noticeably sad.

"Quinn," Kurt says suddenly, and the blonde's head snaps up to look at the brunette boy, "what's going on with you and Sam?"

Quinn stares at him for a moment, her green eyes wide and somewhat nervous, until she regains control over her emotions and shakes her head.

"Nothing." She says bluntly. "It doesn't matter."

At this, she stands and disappears off in the direction that Sam went in around five minutes ago.

"That girl is ridiculous." Rachel comments altogether too loudly from the opposite end of the table beside Finn. The boy stares at his girlfriend for a while, and for a moment it almost seems like he's about to jump to the defence of his ex-girlfriend, but apparently, for once, thinks about it and realizes it will only make matters so much worse.

Kurt finishes his salad and orange juice within the next ten minutes and he leaves the table to go and collect his books from his locker. He goes alone, which is probably not a fabulous decision upon anyone else's inspection, but he finds Sam waiting for him at his locker, so he's kind of glad he did.

"Kurt." The blonde says quietly, his green eyes fixed on the floor. "I'm sorry. I need to explain things to you."

The brunette nods, tugs the books he needs from his locker and forces them in to his bag before taking hold of Sam's wrist and pulling him to a quieter area. They end up in the nearest classroom, which happens to be one of the Astronomy rooms.

"I..." Sam starts, taking a seat on one of the desks that doesn't have models or books all over it. "I guess what I was trying to say earlier was that I..."

He trails off, his eyes wet with tears again, and Kurt moves over to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly in a gesture of 'it's okay, I'm here.'

"I guess I never really thought about boys until I met you." Sam says shyly, his voice thick with tears, and as Kurt searches his face for any sign of a lie, he notices the tears starting to fall slowly.

"I mean, I thought about them, obviously, but not in the way I started to before I met you. You kind of changed everything." Sam says, even though his head is furiously telling him to shut up, shut up, _shut up_. He's really crying now, and he realizes that, perhaps embarrassingly, he hasn't cried this much since he was still in elementary school.

"Oh." Kurt says softly, his mouth forming the most perfect shocked 'O' shape.

"I'm sorry." Sam says, hanging his head and rubbing at his eyes harshly to stop the tears as best as he can.

"It's okay, Sam." Kurt says, sitting down beside him and tossing an arm behind his back absently. "It happens sometimes. There's nothing you can do about it."

He thinks back to the time last year when he was obsessed with Finn, and he winces a little as he remembers how much of a creeper he was back then.

Sam mutters something to himself; Kurt only hears the basic noise and not the words, which is kind of the way Sam likes to tell people he loves them. Not.

Kurt watches him absently as he tugs at his blonde bangs for a short moment, and Kurt can only imagine it's some kind of stress relief for him or something.

"I'm sorry, Kurt." Sam says quietly, and looks up to examine (and criticize) the stickers depicting the galaxy on the ceiling. "I should probably leave you alone now, shouldn't I?"

Kurt shakes his head, squeezes Sam's hip absently where his hand rests on the prominent shape.

"No, don't." Kurt says softly, his eyes unreadable to the younger blonde. "I like your company, Sam."


End file.
